Pantera
by speaker4thesilent
Summary: Ichigo's getting the snot stomped out of him. Orihime objects. NelxIchigoxOrihime not crack


I'm working on how to write the Bleach-verse, so I'm going to do a series of short fics. This is number one.

As usual, I own nothing; do not sue me, because I have nothing worth taking.

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Pantera (Version 2.0)

She couldn't believe it.

She'd _seen _it, and she still couldn't believe it.

Even with the power he'd gained since she'd been kidnapped she hadn't believed that Ichigo could win against someone as strong as Grimmjow. Even as he carried her and Nel to the base of the pillar from which they'd observed the fight, her brain simply rejected the idea that Ichigo could dismantle an Espada the way he had. Even as he smiled and told them he was going to save Chad and Rukia, she couldn't believe that he—that all of her friends—would come like they had just to rescue someone like her.

She couldn't fight, couldn't help them in the coming war. She'd been willing to leave all of them to keep them safe, to buy them time to get stronger. Even if it had meant that she died in this strange world.

Finally, she allowed herself to believe. That was a mistake.

The Sexta Espada drug himself into view yet again, obviously weakened, but. . .

"I don't lose . . .I'll never lose . . .to someone like you!" Grimmjow declared, his Pantera once again sealed, and Orihime felt her hopes break. Ichigo was too weak, he'd spent too much energy, fought too long with his mask on to defend them again. She missed what Ichigo said to him, frozen with her fear for the strawberry-blond and for the others that he'd said he would save. Grimmjow's yell brought her back to the present, his sword raised to strike as screamed, "Never! You're-"

For a moment, as the massive weapon struck the Sexta Espada and the almost comical look of surprise crossed his features, Orihime felt hope bloom again. It was as though some reprieve had been granted.

It didn't take long for that hope to be shattered. She couldn't even look at the new arrival as Grimmjow gasped out his last breaths, his left lung filling with blood and that blood then draining out through the massive rent in his side. No one she knew had a zanpakuto like that, even in its released form, so it couldn't be an ally. Which meant another battle. One that not even Ichigo could win.

Even that thought, though, was unable to break her from her daze as she watched Grimmjow breathe in and out. . . in and out. . .

And stop.

The familiar form rested—still for a bare moment before a wind seemed to blow over it, and where it passed . . .

Dust. Blowing away like smoke leaving only the sheathe of his sword.

It seemed impossible that someone who'd been so strong in life could disappear so quickly.

Would Ichigo disappear the same way?

That was finally enough to break her stare at what had once been the Sexta Espada. "Kurosaki-kun!" she yelled, her eyes searching out the black-robed Shinigami substitute. She started to run toward him, not even considering what she could possibly do to help when his opponent spoke.

"Tesla," a simple word, only two syllables, but to Orihime it was the ending of hope. Bad enough that Ichigo had to fight another powerful opponent, but if he had help. . .

A fraction of a second later, Orihime felt the other Arrancar's spiritual power appear behind her. A bare moment later, she was on her back in the sand, the Arrancar that had taken her down standing over her. And her hope was dead. Ichigo, Chad, Uryu, and the others that had come to rescue her had done nothing more than throw their lives away.

Orihime was too lost in sorrow and regret to resist when the Arrancar Tesla dragged her to her feet to force her to watch the fight. In truth, Orihime didn't even notice the battle raging in front of her, she was absorbed with guilt, wondering if this had been Aizen's plan in the first place. Had he wanted to lure rescue group after rescue group to their deaths trying to save her? Or had he just wanted to get her friends away from Soul Society's support so he could use them as bait in turn? Had even the manner of her own capture been another trap for her friends? Had everything they'd done since Ichigo met Rukia been part of a trap? Could Aizen really be that powerful? That intelligent?

Had he manipulated everyone in both Karakura and Soul Society into doing the wrong thing for all the right reasons?

Many people, most people, in fact, would have surrendered to despair at that moment and with that realization. Knowing how utterly they'd been played would have broken them. She herself might have before her friends had arrived to try and save her.

_Even someone as useless as me. They came to save even me, and because of it they're going to die at that-that HORRIBLE man's hands._

Instead of any of those other reactions, Orihime got mad.

She broke free of her thoughts just in time to see the Arrancar with the huge weapon yell at Ichigo. And send him flying with a blow powerful enough to break bones even in his Shinigami form. Her yell caught in her throat, her anger choked off by her fear, but as the Arrancar who could only be an Espada started to twist Ichigo's wrist—as she could her the bones grind together and Nel crying out for her friend—anger surpassed fear.

_There has to be something I can do._

**Perhaps there is, girl.**

Everything froze: the Espada with his vicious grin, Ichigo, his mouth open in an involuntary scream of pain, Nel, her mouth half open in another cry, one of her tears hovering halfway to the ground.

"Wha-?" she started to ask, her head turning right to bring the speaker into her sight, but she too froze when she saw who was speaking to her.

Or rather _what _was speaking to her.

The panther was standing in the same place that Grimmjow's sword had fallen, and Orihime instinctively knew that it was the spirit of the blue-haired man's Zanpakuto. For just that moment shock held her still. But it was only for a moment as surprise became suspicion, "Why would _you_ help _me_?"

A chuckle from the Zanpakuto spirit that sounded remarkably like chunks of gravel being ground together answered her. **You have spirit, girl. Even surrounded by your enemies you didn't curl up and die. **The spirit gave her a feline grin. **So perhaps there is a way you can help your friends.**

Inspiration struck Orihime. "Can you teach me how to find my own Zanpakuto? Is that what this is about?"

**No, **the panther said, and Orihime bit the inside of her lip in disappointment. For just a few moments she'd hoped that she might receive enough power from such a thing to actually be useful to her friends. Hope was rekindled and mixed with surprise as the sword-spirit continued. **However, I might be persuaded to let you wield my power in addition to your own.**

"But you're an Arrancar's sword!" Orihime objected wide eyed.

**As if that means anything. **The cat said as it prowled around her, looking her up and down. Orihime just felt like a piece of meat on display.

"Why?" she asked, trying to keep watching the panther without the ability to move from the frozen Tesla's grip.

**A zanpakuto is the outward expression of a soul's power. It doesn't matter if that soul is Arrancar or Shinigami or even Human as you are.**

"That isn't what I meant."

The Zanpakuto grinned at her again. **I know. **The Sword-Spirit made another circuit around her in silence as it apparently considered what to say. **You have a great deal of anger, and yet you suppress it. Why? **Orihime opened her mouth to answer, but the cat continued right along. **You suppress it because you have been conditioned to do so. You fear that your anger makes you somehow less than you should be. You've been told not to get angry, not to use your anger for so long that I doubt very much you could harness it to save yourself even now.**

Orihime flinched at the Spirit's last statement. Could she use Tsubaki to kill the Arrancar even now? Would her intent be strong enough to make him effective?

**No, **Pantera answered her unspoken question. **You are unlike my last bearer. You do not have the rage he possessed. It is not what drives you. Your anger drew me to you but that will not be what causes me to remain. What do you suppose makes me even consider giving you access to my power?**

This time the Sword-Spirit clearly did expect an answer, and Orihime searched for what it was about someone like her that seemed to cause people to come to her defense. She didn't understand it. Someone as worthless as her-

**Foolish girl. You were willing to give your life for your friends. Is it so hard to believe that they hold you in high enough regard to be willing to do the same? You may not be capable of listening to you anger, but you certainly have good **_**instincts**_**, **the cat-shaped spirit told her, **And, while anger, rage, and the will to battle are part of my domain, **_**instinct**_** is as well. **Another fang-bearing grin slid over the Zanpakuto's feline lips. **It doesn't matter terribly what **_**sort**_** of instinct it is either. Your instinctive desire to help those that are hurt certainly qualifies.**

Orihime blinked at the spirit. It might sound good, but . . . "That's not the reason."

**No, but it is **_**a**_** reason. **The great cat looked her over consideringly once more. **I have reached my decision. I believe you already know my name. **

The cat turned to walk back to where Grimmjow's Zanpakuto lay and Orihime stared at it in surprise. Just like that, and . . . _He's really going to give me his power?_

**No. As I said before, I will permit you to wield my power. Only when you can discern my reasons for doing so will I truly grant you my strength.**

"Thank you, Pantera," she said, stunned that she might actually have a chance to be helpful for once.

**Foolish girl, thank me if all of you survive.**

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Tesla was irritated. Here he was holding the Orihime woman Aizen had captured, forcing her to watch her little friend torn apart, and she wasn't so much as struggling. According to the rumor mill, watching Nnoitra teach the arrogant red-blond Shinigami a lesson should have had the girl in hysterics. Either she was foolishly confident her little friend would win, or she didn't care either way.

A pity. Restraining her while she screamed would have been vastly more entertaining. Although seeing the Arrancar that had once been the Tercera Espada cry over the beating the Shinigami was getting made up for much of the slack.

Maybe it was because of how still she'd been, or perhaps it was his surprise over the sudden increase in her reiatsu. No, it was most likely the surprise at seeing Grimmjow's sword spin through the air toward him that permitted her to pull her right wrist out of his grip. The fact that she not only caught the sword, but apparently also had the will to use it contributed to his surprise. Still, irregardless of the presence of a blade in her possession, and in spite of his surprise he prepared to defend himself, dispossess her of the weapon, and insure that she was . . . disinclined to attempt a repeat performance.

Unfortunately for him, no one appeared to have told the girl that the Katana was unsuited to thrusting attacks. He'd expected her to strike at his left arm which still held her other wrist prisoner, and she had. He simply hadn't expected the speed and manner of attack. The girl pivoted on her left heel, and, with the speed of a striking snake, thrust the katana into his chest just below his shoulder edge up. She then proceeded to tear the blade out of the wound by pulling it up through two ribs, his collarbone, and his Hierro. Considering the fact that he no longer had nerve contact with his left arm, he was unsurprised when his hand lost its grip on his attacker's wrist.

"Bitch!" he yelled, his remaining hand going to his sword. But, just as he was about to draw his own weapon, three thing happened that sealed his fate.

First, he remembered Nnoitra's admonishment that nothing noticeable was to happen to the girl. If there were marks, Aizen would not be happy, which, in turn, meant that Nnoitra would be _extraordinarily_ displeased with the person responsible for drawing the commander's ire. And so, for a split second, he hesitated to draw his sword.

Second, off to the side where the child form of Nel had been crying into the sand came a scream of "Itsygo!" and an explosion of reiatsu and pink smoke as Neliel Tu Oderschvank reassumed her true form. It was understandable that Tesla flinched and looked back over his shoulder when it happened. But understandable or not, it sealed his fate.

Because when Orihime Inoue took up a very familiar stance with Grimmjow's blade, Tesla was unable to stop her before she yelled, "Kishire, Pantera!"

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Kishire: commonly translated as 'grind.' A better translation would be 'Grind your teeth.'

Pantera: Do I really have to spell it out for you?

Aaaaaand I've gone and started yet another fic. Sorry, but as I've stated before, my muse is a fickle bitch and I've had this particular rabbit gnawing on my ankles for upwards of three months. Maybe I'll be able to get back to IND after I put up a couple of chapters on this fic.


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